


The Hunter and the Hunted

by Suchstuffasdreams



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Cock Slut, Crack Treated Seriously, Dragonborn - Freeform, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, M/M, Man Whore - Freeform, Original Character(s), Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tieflings, rogues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suchstuffasdreams/pseuds/Suchstuffasdreams
Summary: An insatiable human man-whore on the quest to find the best cock in the land.------------Based on a smut book my DM made up for my character to read during our campaign. I struck up a deal with another member of our group for us to both try and write our respective characters' pornographic material, and I decided to make this as cracky as possible by just imitating all the Bad Sex Writing Tropes I could. Up for suggestions of future chapters, since I don't have many ideas atm!





	1. Rogue Daddy

“There is a particular look about a teenage boy that lets you know what kind of man he’ll be. A certain fullness of lips, a frank sensuality in his gaze. We all know what the word for that is, but it’s not polite to use it until he’s proven he’s that kind of boy.”  
 _— Meg Elison_

 

The hour was late, and the leather-clad man at the bar was by far the most interesting thing I’d seen in a while.

He was a rogue of some sort — dressed head to toe in tight black leather armor filled nicely by his swollen muscles, and he had incredibly tan olive skin with hair the color of dark chocolate, a short scruffy beard with silver streaks, and big rough hands that would feel like sandpaper on smooth skin like mine.

I sauntered over, sure he’d noticed me. I like to think I’m difficult to miss — a little tall (not too tall), a nice shoulder-to-waist ratio if I do say so myself, trousers so ridiculously tight that you could likely read the tag on my “This Machine Is Propaganda” tighty-whities. The remainder of my outfit wasn’t truly remarkable, just a few ancient relics I’d had laying around. You know how it is.

Halfway there, I caught it. The look. The look that told me, “Boy, keep coming and you'll be in deep trouble.” The look that makes lesser men’s knees tremble. But I could handle it. I’ve seen that look a hundred times in a hundred different bars and taverns and festivals, and it always leads to the same end.

But I played along and threw him a coy little blush and some fluttering eyelashes.

He flashed a smile — no, a smirk — and I knew he was hooked.

I appeared at his side — close, but not too close — and leaned up against the counter, a smile playing on my pink lips, as if I might be about to order a drink. (Please. I haven’t ever bought a drink for myself. Ever.)

True to type, the rogue on my right, the one with the delectable facial hair, held up a calloused hand toward the bartender while turning to face me. Without missing a beat he examined me up and down, and evidently enjoyed what he saw, since he leaned in and spoke in a deep rumble: “Barashi for the _charming_ young man here.”

I blushed on command (standard tool of the trade) and mumbled, “Thank you, sir,” and gazed down at the glass the barmaid slid to me, oh-so-slowly drawing my index finger around the rim, waiting for him to make the next move. I could feel his eyes fixed on me and I could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind. Naughty thoughts. Thoughts like — well, I don’t kiss and tell.

“Well,” I said, finishing my drink, “I guess I’d better go.”

I turned away as if to walk off, leaving my arm on the counter the whole time — a tantalizing snare, a bit of bait. He got the hint and before I could start off his hand was firmly grasping my wrist. “Hold on,” he said, leaning even closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath clearer than anything now. This was an easier bag than I’d thought.

This guy was a predator, and I was the prey. It’s all about dominance for this kind of animal. It’s a primal drive. He can’t lose. It’s not an option. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants, and lucky for him I’m not actually interested in keeping it from him.

I can imagine what he saw on me — after all, I saw it in other boys too. My smooth skin just barely tanned by the sun, tiny little sprinklings of freckles you can trace with your finger across my cheeks, my shoulders, my back. Full pink lips perfectly taut as if I had just been sucking on a lollipop covered in gloss. Two soft eyes green like the water along an island shore. And of course there was the way my shirt hung up around my hips, just tantalizingly above the top of my trousers, begging the imagination to picture what might happen if either were to slip off...

I flashed a look at him — innocent, expectant, curious.

He smiled, showing his canines. “Why such a rush?” He smoothed his thumb over my wrist, sandpaper on ceramic. “I bought you a drink. You should sit.” He leaned even closer in order to reach his hand over and yank the nearest barstool up right next to his.

I sat, bending toward him as I slid my bottom onto the seat, my face hovering only a couple inches from his neck, close enough to take in his smell: all testosterone and sweat and hot musk. It made my dick twitch in my pants.

He evidently noticed me smelling him as he slid nearer on his own stool. “You’re a little devil,” he snarled, moving forward to breathe on my ear. “What a tease...”

I shivered with excitement as I keened back, “Why don’t you tease me back then?” I moved my right hand, the one he wasn’t holding on the bar, to slide up his thigh — form and hard as a rock under those tight leather trousers.

“Something tells me a boy like you doesn’t _just_ want to be teased...” He breathed into my ear before nibbling on it a little and laving the lobe with his tongue. “You want to be touched too,” he continued as I let out a little whimper, placing his free hand at the juncture of my hip and my thigh, spreading that maddeningly large hand so that his thumb could loop into my trousers while his fingers kneaded the side of my ass.

“Please, sir,” I nodded, inching closer and running my hand over the leather lace codpiece that seemed to barely contain his growing member.

“You want a big strong man to sit you on his lap,” he growled into my neck, “and make you feel all full and hot? Make you hurt just the way you like?”

This guy was speaking my language to a tee. I nodded again, and whispered, “Anything you want, sir.”

He let out a low chuckle and pulled back enough to face me. “You live nearby, kid?”


	2. Bathtime with Tiefling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our horndog hero gets some much needed aftercare from an all-too-willing horned roommate...

Under all that leather, he was a beast with coffee-colored curls in all the right places, and big enough muscles to crush me to death, which he almost did when he twisted me tight in his bear arms while I bounced on his thick cock and he swallowed both my tongue and my whines for more.

Eventually, after I came ten minutes in, he hurled me onto the mattress and really pounded me until my ass was black and blue and dripping wet, and he left me exhausted and needy for more.

I woke up to the rays of the sun cascading through the drapes on my window, warming my naked body. I stretched, my nipples perking up as my half-hard morning wood flopped between my thighs. I rolled out of bed and pulled on an old threadbare shirt, fabric so worn and thin my nipples were practically completely visible through it. I sauntered to the bathroom, the delicious slick burn of the previous night lighting up as my hips swayed.

I was hard enough I had to stand above the toilet a minute waiting for the pee to come. Ladies, they could conjure it up immediately — that was one of their magic powers, that magnificent splashing as they sat queenlike upon the throne. Everything about them was more direct — their insides weren’t the maze men’s were, full of trapdoors and sudden dead-ends for the pee to find its way through. Once the boner had subsided, though, I relieved myself and went to bathe, pausing first to look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging by the bath: my six-inch cock dangling freely, my back perfectly arched to show off my delicious-looking flanks, the swell of my round ass and the length of my toned legs. I hardly ever work out or watch what I eat, yet I effortlessly maintain a lean-muscled figure with a slim waist and firm, almost-too-large buttocks and pecs — features I showed off as I slipped off the shirt I’d thrown on and squatted on all fours to draw my bath, well aware of the eyes on me as I arched my back to show off my open wares.

I’d left the door open — an invitation, as usual — and soon enough I heard a familiar voice greet me: “Someone’s still in the mood.”

I felt warm, big hands caress my ass and my cock — hard again now — from behind me as my roommate, Garshan, knelt down by my rear. I turned my head to look at him, simultaneously pushing back against his hands in an unspoken request for more. He was in one of those ridiculously tight, nearly see-through tank tops he usually wore — his black wiry chest hair poked out the top and sides and I could make out the distinct swell of his pecs and abs through the fabric, even his nipples — and a black and gold jock that his full-mast cock was hanging out the side of.

“I take it you heard us last night,” I asked teasingly.

“How could I not?” he replied, moving one hand to cup his erection and the other to massage my slick hole. “I came twice listening to you two.”

Garshan and I had been living together a year and a half — when we first met I was unsure of his sexuality and less confident in my own, but it only took so many “accidental” glimpses of each other walking around naked and a few of my own loud escapades in my bedroom right next door to his before finally I shoved him up against a wall one morning when he was fresh out of the shower and swallowed his cock while he fingered me with his spit. Ever since then we had a mutual understanding that whenever we wanted we could use each other for pleasure, like eagerly-consenting writhing sex dolls. To call Garshan “a horny devil” would be quite the understatement — he was a Tiefling with deep crimson skin and large black ram’s horns, roughly three or four inches shorter than me but considerably stronger and built like a brick house, with a wickedly curved six inch cock that teased my insides like nothing else could. He could pound me for hours with that thing until neither of us could move anymore. We understood each other’s sexual needs and desires better than anyone else we knew.

That was why, as the bath filled with hot water, I found myself in downward dog with my roommate’s exceptionally long tongue lapping at my prostate while he stroked both me and himself to the edge and back again over and over until the bath was threatening to overflow.

When I whimpered that I needed to turn the water off, he relented long enough for me to swing forward and stop the tap. Hardly had I done so, however, before I felt his weight on my back and his cock sliding into my hole with a wet pop while he roughly twisted my head to slide his tongue down my throat. He tasted like my ass, like my sweat, and like my leather-clad rogue’s cum.

“Tasting someone else inside you gets me so hard,” he growled, slowly and torturously drawing out and then slamming back into me, forcing cries of ecstasy from my outstretched throat as that bend in his cock rubbed hard against my prostate.

“Fuck yes,” I groaned as he bucked his hips, his shaft squirming inside me, before oh-so-slowly thrusting his hips back and forth, savoring the sensation on his dick while my eyes rolled back in my head in pleasure, feeling too much and not enough at the same time.

That’s always been my problem with sex — as well as the reason I pursue it so much. No matter how many times I’ve fucked or been fucked I’ve always just been left wanting more, feeling like I haven’t had enough. No mouth or hole has ever quite been able to drive me as wild as I expected, and out of all the cocks that have fucked me none has ever _quite_ filled me up the right way. There was always an itch left unscratched — a yearning for something more orgasmic that wasn’t completely there. It’s not like I haven’t had fun, but I’ve always been chasing after that elusive something.

I’ve never told Garshan that, but I figure he understands. We enjoy exploring, sucking, and fucking each other to our hearts’ content, but I don’t think we could ever truly satisfy each other. We’re both insatiable.

He railed me like that, both of us moaning and groaning as he picked up speed, pistoning his exquisite boomerang-like member in and out of my sensitive, slick hole until with a yell he unloaded, losing no speed as he ejaculated sweet, hot warmth inside me, barreling forward until a moment later my own orgasm hit and I shot my own hot spunk onto the rim of the bath, vibrating with ecstatic pleasure.

Garshan knows me too well — he kept on slamming his pelvis against my ass until both of us had nothing left and I was just a quivering, grinning mess on the floor, momentarily blissed out beyond words as he kissed his way along my shoulders and neck.

“We’d better get into that bath before it gets cold,” he growled before nipping at my ear, and when I turned my head I saw he was slipping off his tank and jock, unwrapping his furry body like a birthday present just for me.

I crawled into the bath excitedly, relishing that slick soreness in my ass, and he wasn’t long after me, pinning me against the edge of the warm bath to lap into my mouth.

“Did your rogue make you feel that good?” he snarled with a wicked grin when he finally pulled back, pushing backward to grab the soap from its place by the faucet.

“How did you know he was a rogue?” I asked, arching an eyebrow, and caught a sinful thought. “Did you spy on us?”

He winked at me. “Maybe,” he shrugged as he returned to larger up my chest, lingering around my sensitive nipples to tease me as he continued, “He looked drunk. He can’t have been too much fun.”

“He had an amazing cock,” I countered, squirming a little under his touch. “And a filthy mouth. I could’ve cum just from hearing him talk about everything he wanted to do to me...”

“You mean I don’t have an amazing cock?” Garshan asked, head tilted as he moved one hand under the water to squeeze my ass, hard.

“Your cock is wonderful,” I confessed, “but he was all raw animal rage. His was fat and he knew how to make me hurt with it in all the right ways. You’re methodical, calculating...”

“You’re telling me you don’t enjoy that?” he teased, moving to sit on the edge of the bath and scrub my back now, “because the sounds you were just making say otherwise.”

“He wasn’t better than you,” I chuckled. “Not by a long shot. I wasn’t saying that. But he fulfilled a purpose.”

“A purpose I could’ve fulfilled,” he returned, and I felt the spark of recognition go off in my head.

“Are you jealous?” I asked, turning to face him and coming up eye level to his half-hard dick.

He put down the soap and sighed, “I just don’t see why you go after all these other guys if I can fuck you just as well.”

“Because I need more,” I cocked my head, offering my best disarming grin. “I’ll always need more, Garshan. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy what we’ve got. I’m just... not easily satisfied.”

He looked at me with a pout on his red face, and I leaned up to wrap my arms around his waist.

“You’re a perfect stud, Garshan,” I smiled. “You’re perfect in so many ways. I have no clue what I’d do if I didn’t have you around to pin me down and drive me mad.”

“Believe me, you drive me plenty mad too,” he retorted, letting out the barest hint of a smirk.

“There’s the devil I know and love,” I chuckled, and turned my attention back to his dark red member. “Now, to take care of this...” and I leaned in to suck on the head of his cock like it was the tastiest lollipop in the world...


	3. Kneeling at the Altar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our intrepid hero reaches the end of a long game and finally makes his conquest of an unsuspecting half-elf light cleric...

He was a daddy, but not in a sort of muscly, big-built way.

He was tall, of course — a full foot taller than me — and he had some muscle, but it was all lean and sinewy, long legs and long arms and long fingers that I twitched to imagine on my skin, in my mouth, or inside my ass.

He had hair with more salt than pepper, but the lines on his face were so thin that you could hardly see them until you got close, and his voice had such a pretty lilt to it that hearing him speak alone might make you think he was in his twenties at most.

He’d speak often, in the town square or in the assembly-hall or in the temple, and his earthy honey-colored eyes would scan the people there listening to his sermonizing — not that there were ever that many.

He was a bit fidgety, not always seeming sure of what to do with his lanky tallness even at his age, and it was clear sometimes that certain thoughts or words crossed his mind that he wouldn’t dare do or say — but when I caught his eyes sometimes, it was like he was saying them all out loud through the slightest twitches of his eyelid or his pupils.

Of course I knew he’d need help saying and doing those things he desperately wanted to. I knew it would take time. I bore patiently through sermon after sermon, speech after speech — listened intently and gave him the most innocent, curious eyes any man could ever want. I was the perfect little repentant sinner, constantly offering him all the attention and admiration he could hope for. For such a lesser cared-for holy man, I knew how intoxicated he made him — how bubbly and excited and thrilled he must have been to have just one person so _eager_ to hear his message. Of course, little did he understand that I yearned to drop to my knees for less holy reasons than he might’ve assumed.

All those throw-away lines and speeches about _purity_ , though — that’s how I knew he was ripe for it. No one worries so much about purity unless they’re secretly worried that they themselves are impure. No one pays so much attention to what others are doing in the bedroom unless it’s a place that they deeply long to be themselves. I’d smile lightly every time he stuttered anxiously through a message about how “Love is meant to be expressed only within marriage” and “the good lord Pholtus only intends for men and women to be together in intimate union.” It was hardly discreet how personally uncomfortable he was with such statements, as if he simply knew them to be untrue but what too terrified of the alternative to admit it.

And I’d sit or stand and look into those eyes and he’d look into mine and I knew that with all the zeal and self-righteousness he felt over having at least one person who wanted to hear more, he also felt things he couldn’t quite face, let alone put into words.

No, I understood plainly that I would have to bide my time until the opportunity arrived for me to make the first move, to break down the wall so that he could finally do what he wanted...

The space between my thighs was still slick with Garshan’s delectable hot cum when I made my way to the temple of Pholtus to see my cleric. He was there as per usual, sitting at his desk in the little room behind the altar, dressed in the gold-trimmed linen vestments that seemed so baggy on his lithe frame and yet begged for me to reveal what was underneath. He was clutching his silver pendant, poring over some ancient manuscript, when I knocked on the doorpost — there was no actual door to the room, just the doorway.

He looked up in a bit of surprise, but smiled gently when he saw me standing there. I couldn’t help smirking a little when his eyes scanned me up and down — taking in the sight of tousled golden curls, damp skin, that same sheer white shirt, and a limp pair of trousers that hung around my hips as if threatening to fall off any moment. A man with less self-control might’ve ravished me right there — and I would’ve enjoyed every moment of it — but the poor cleric only managed a feeble, “Hello, my child.”

I leaned at the door innocently enough and observed, “You have such a young sounding voice. It always sounds funny when you call people ‘child’.”

He chuckled quietly, “So I’ve been told. Nevertheless I _am_ old enough to be your father.”

I blushed a little on command and said, “You call everyone ‘child’ though.”

He smiled, humbly jumping at the chance to offer his expertise on such a trivial subject. “It’s the standard way for clerics to speak to their parishioners. I suppose it can’t be avoided.”

“Does that mean I’m a parishioner?” I asked curiously, tilting my head.

“You come to practically every sermon,” he laughed reservedly. “I should hope so.”

“And all your parishioners are supposed to be like your children?” I asked, pressing the point.

“Yes,” he nodded simply. “Of course.”

“Does that mean I have to act like you’re my dad?” I asked, furrowing my brow teasingly. “I’ve never had a dad. Wouldn’t know here to start, really. Are we supposed to play catch?”

He laughed, a little bit of genuine humor seeping through. “I don’t think the metaphor is meant to be taken that far.”

“Ah, well,” I shrugged, and then stepped in a little closer as if I were examining his book. “Do I at least get to sit with you while you read then?”

“Certainly,” he acquiesced after a moment of slight shock at the request, and seemed about to look around for something for me to sit on when I spoke up again, drawing his attention.

“I could sit on your lap,” I offered, my tone halfway between teasing and genuine. “Kids do that with their dads when they’re reading, right?”

His eyes went a little wide looking up at me and he swallowed for a second, his pupils going wider for just a moment as he took in both me and my request. Likely unconsciously, his posture shifted — he turned out, perhaps in order to face me, but leaving his right leg under the desk and his right arm on it while his left arm came to his chin and his left foot pointed out toward me. I took my shot with the gentle tentativeness of a true ingenue, sweetly and slowly descending until I was seated on his left leg, straddling it with my right leg nearly lost in the folds of his robe. He made a small noise that was part-surprise and part-rejection, but made no move to push me away, and said nothing.

We sat like that in silence while I pretended that he was actually reading instead of mentally hurdling through the implications of what was happening right then. Eventually, ever so slowly, his left hand ended up on my hip, since it had nowhere else to go besides the desk. I couldn’t say after a few minutes whether he was still processing my action or if he had actually taken up his reading again, but finally I spoke up again, mustering up all the sincerity I could manage: “Father, does the church of Pholtus believe in confession?”

He seemed taken aback for a second before he replied, “Yes, the church of Pholtus has always encouraged confession of one’s sins in order to receive holy forgiveness.”  
“Can I confess something to you then?” I asked, quietly and carefully, as if I were truly and utterly guilty over something. Before he could respond I added, “Not just as my priest, but... but as a friend too. As a... a father.” I paused another moment to let that sink in, twisting to the right a little bit to get his face in my periphery. “I don’t really have anyone else I can talk to about this...”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes and words full of tender caring emotion.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“I’ve struggled with... bad thoughts,” I said, and paused as if it were too difficult to continue.

“What kind of bad thoughts, my child?”

I sighed, “I dream about... about carnal desires. About men. About... having sex with men, and...” I broke off again.

The kind smile that eased through his face would have warmed any truly guilty soul. He put his hands on my waist and turned me inward a bit more to face him. “My son, that’s nothing to be afraid of. Such thoughts are—are natural. Fleshly thoughts.” I could hear the clear relief in his own voice — this was a problem he was familiar with, and a message he himself needed to hear. “Any body of flesh might be tormented by them. The darkness tries many ways to corrupt us. As long as you don’t act on these thoughts—“

“But father,” I said woefully, “I did. I did act on them.”

His mouth formed a near-silent “O” before he sighed, “Of course...”

His hands had ended up with his left on the small of my back and the right on the end of my thigh. I tried hard not to show how I relished in it. “Last night,” I began, blushing, “I met a man who... who said _sinful_ things to me, and... and I gave in and took him back to my place, and...”

“Oh, my son—“

I couldn’t let him derail this. “And he took off our clothes and had me suck on his phallus, father, and then he spit on my bottom and fingered me and he fucked me and, _oh father,_ I didn’t know how to stop, it just felt so _good_...”

He was red in the face, and what was more, his hardening penis was brushing the underside of my thigh. His hands gripped a little tighter on me, and I could see in his eyes that whatever details my words had left out were being filled in by his imagination.

“This is... a grave sin, my son,” he said through shaky breaths.

“Can sin be so _delicious_?” I asked, moving my right hand from my lap to touch his hand on my thigh.

He was sweating bullets now. “The darkness... the darkness receives the flesh in many ways...”

“I didn’t feel deceived,” I murmured. “I just felt... _full_...”

His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and his mouth broke open with a groan, his tongue darting out to anxiously lick his lips. I took advantage of the situation and leaned in to catch his open lips, my tongue caressing his, exploring his bitter mouth. Coffee — he must have been fasting.

His hand moved up my thigh while the one on my back held on tighter, and before he knew it I’d shifted, thrown my legs around him, straddling his thighs and seating myself directly on the indiscreet bulge in the lap of his vestments.

“Holy Father,” I gasped, breaking the kiss.

“This is wrong,” he muttered, honest-to-Pholtus tears in his eyes.

“But doesn’t it feel so right?” I replied, grinding down on him as I took him in another kiss, this time one to which he responded even more enthusiastically, gradually letting go of his barriers and exploring my mouth with his tongue and my body with his hands. I made little keening noises into his mouth as his fingers crept over my hips and thighs, apparently still too cautious to go further. When he groaned in response, I took the liberty of taking his hands and pressing them into the waistband of my trousers, looping his thumbs in and pushing a little bit so he got the hint. Obediently he pushed down my trousers past my ass (I'd come commando, prepared) and experimentally began kneading my cheeks, his fingers brushing ever so close to the space in between them but never making it to my hole. I knew he wasn’t teasing like this on purpose, but it still made me so frustrated and horny that I couldn’t help but break our incredibly long kiss.

“Father,” I sighed steamily as I pulled off my shirt and let it fall to the floor. “I think I need to get down on my knees and pray.”

Losing my pants on the way, I slid off of him and onto the ground, pushing up the hem of his robe to his stomach and revealing the tightie-whities underneath, from which his erection was threatening to burst. Making eye contact, I peeled them down his legs, relishing in the sight of his face — his lips red and slobbery, his eye blown wide with lust and anxious anticipation. Then I crawled up between his legs, resting my elbows on either one, and began lapping at the head of his cock. The holy father was hung like a horse, with a seven-plus inch dick all veiny and slender and then a big pink mushroom cap on the end, the perfect cockhead for getting my lips and tongue around. For now I just licked and sucked lightly on it while my hands went up to play with his nipples, eliciting broken moans from him. I gazed up, my aquatic green eyes no doubt a hypnotic sight when blown wide with lust and paired with my flush pink lips and tender pink tongue slipping and sliding across the tip of his penis. Finally, I couldn’t restrain myself any longer and brought one hand down so that I could hold his dick in place and slobber on it liberally, trying to get every square inch dripping with saliva. Then I started stroking while I sucked on his balls, causing his pelvis to start twitching as he mewled eagerly. Next I licked a slow stripe on the underside of his dick and then took the top in my mouth, sucking in earnest this time as I slowly bobbed my head up and down, gradually taking more and more in. His hands were gripping his thighs, apparently unsure of where else to go, so I grabbed one and tangled his fingers in my curls. He caught on and started tugging, moaning as he drove his member further into the wet velvety heat of my mouth, the head burrowing into my throat as I swallowed around it eagerly, massaging the underside with my tongue and sucking harder now. Without missing a beat, and without any further guidance from me, he then scooted forward in his chair, still tugging on my hair to fuck my mouth on his cock, and leaned over my head to reach a lanky arm down and slide two long fingers in between my ass cheeks, reaching just far enough to tease and prod at my hole.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned as I moaned around his cock. “Is that normal?”

I mumbled some kind of agreement around the long dick in my mouth, and he simply groaned again as he massaged both my scalp and my asshole at once.

The only way I could’ve been more in heaven would’ve been if there was a fat cock to join his fingers down there.

His hips began bucking up in earnest now, fucking my mouth like he was close. The only noises he was making were ones of pure pleasure, so I helped him out by swallowing his cock down to the root and roughly playing with his balls with one of my hands as I sucked on him and spasmed my throat around his delicious cock. (In case it wasn’t obvious, I don’t have a gag reflex.) I moved my other hand from his nipple to join his at my hole, bucking my hips and trying to accommodate as many fingers as I could.  
He threw his head back in a choked-off cry and I felt his ballsack contract, and then hot salty cum filled my throat, squirting inside me as I swallowed eagerly, squeezing every last drop out of him. Between the noises he was making, the warm cum in my throat, and the diligent fingers probing my hole, I too came, unloading white strings of cum across the floor.

Once that long half-elf cock was thoroughly spent and the father had fallen back in his chair, trying to catch his breath, I finally let go of his member with a soaking wet slurp, and crawled up to straddle him again, licking into his mouth. He let me, and when I finally pulled away he smacked his lips experimentally. “It tastes salty,” he observed, “but a little bitter.”

“That’s you, Father,” I said, sitting my ass down on his cock and wondering how long it could take a man of his years to regain enough energy to fuck my hungry ass with that long poker.

Suddenly, however, the sound reached us of the temple doors opening — the measly crowd of congregants arriving for midday prayer. A panicked expression struck his face and I chuckled, “No worries, father, all is quickly fixed,” crawling off him and pulling his robes down to cover his nakedness.

I picked up the tightie-whities off the floor, putting them on with my back to him so he could admire the swell of my ass one more time. It wasn’t until I was pulling up my trousers as well that he realized.

“Wait, those are _my underwear_ ,” he said.

“I know, father,” I said with a smirk. “So you’d better come by and get them back some time soon.”

With that, I strode out of the temple, leaving him to his prayer service.


	4. Unsatisfied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our horndog hero is forced to wait to get what he really needs -- a good rough dicking.

Our apartment sits above a general shop that’s open from 9 in the morning to 6 in the evening each day. The shopkeeper used to live up there with his family, but when they outgrew that space and had enough money from the shop to buy a full house up the road, he let me have it for a small monthly rent, since I already worked in the shop downstairs.

The shopkeeper is a dwarf, and his wife’s a human woman. I’m aware that they turn heads — most people wonder how just a fine young lady would’ve decided to spend the rest of her life and share her bed with a man two feet shorter than her. I, of course, understand why: her husband Torran is hung like a horse.

Not that I’ve ever seen — the guy’s a hundred years old, portly, white-haired, and frankly pretty greasy and irritating. His wife Candyss, however, is very chatty, and hilarious. She’s explained to me in detail her reasoning for marrying her husband, and beyond the fact that he was of a somewhat higher station than her, her primary reason for sticking with him was that the dick game was bomb.

It’s a trait that seems to have been inherited by their identical twin sons. The two eighteen-year-olds clearly got their looks and manners from Mom, as well as a height advantage at 5’2”, but I know for a fact that where their human genes gave them extra inches lengthwise, they must’ve also compounded with the genes from Dad when it came to filling the old codpiece. Besides the fact that they looked exactly alike, they might’ve been completely dissimilar — Padrick was more rough and tumble, jocky, and outgoing, while Ewan was a bookish, introverted tinkerer — but they shared one personality trait in common: they were both relentlessly horny teenagers who thought my ass and cock were the best thing since the wheel.

They’d both started working there at their father’s insistence when they were sixteen, and until Garshan had come along they were the most long-term thing I had going. Two and a half years their senior and far more experienced, I was the sexy mentor that every teenage boy needed in his life to help him through those last few years of adolescence when sex is god and your cock and ass twitch for everyone who so much as makes eye contact with you.

It had started out fairly slowly — teenage boys have the tendency to be like feral cats when it comes to sex, they’ll be ready to explode in their pants over someone and yet blush and flee the moment they see them. From the start, their dad mostly left them alone with me on their shifts because he didn’t hang around the shop much anymore and I knew my way around perfectly. I’d show up in a typically tight, sheer outfit with my nipples piercing through the front and my ass about to bust out the back, and all those boys could do was blush and stammer and hold things in front of their groins to hide their boners while I showed them around and trained them up on stalking merchandise and checking out customers. They’d both take frequent bathroom breaks every time I so much as flexed my Ames and torso while stretching or bent over to pick something up off the floor.

It was adorable, but the dam didn’t break until roughly two months in when I was working a morning stocking shift with Padrick and walked in on the poor kid actually pulling down his pants to adjust his massive cock.

He’d been utterly and completely embarrassed, but I’d been awestruck. “No need to apologize for that,” I kept saying. “Shit, with a dick as hot as that you might as well have it out whenever you want.”

He’d stopped trying to put it back in his trousers and looked up at me with surprise. “You think I’ve got a hot dick?”

I walked up close, smirking. “Oh hell yeah. People would line up on their knees for you to give them that thing.”

His whole body, athletic and toned, was tense, but I could see his dick getting harder in his hands. “Really?”

“Of course, you little stud,” I’d murmured, and then ventured further. “You wanna stroke it right now, don’t you?”

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. His pupils were wider than I’d ever seen them.

“Looks like you’re already wet,” I pointed out, and he looked at it with me and felt the precum dripping from the tip.

“Yeah, smear that around there,” I’d breathed, and helpfully lent a hand, clasping his and drawing my fingers over that eight-incher while I pressed up against his side, my other hand settling on his neck. He shivered and moaned.

“You ever gotten your cock wet with someone, Padrick,” I’d asked. He’d shaken his head no. “Really? A little jock like you? Never had some girl or boy fall down at your feet and beg to get that cock inside them?”

He was soaking with precum now. “N-No,” he answered, eyes falling closed as I stroked along with his hand.

“Well I’d better fix that,” I said, and dropped down to the floor and swallowed his cock. He came in a flood of sperm like two seconds later.

After that, he was much more friendly and close.

The next day I had a closing shift with his brother Ewan. Evidently Padrick had confided in Ewan, or perhaps gloated to him, that I was such an eager helper, because at the end of the shift when I locked the door and changed over the open sign to closed, I returned to the counter to find the boy standing there holding his erection through his trousers, asking me to show him what a blowjob felt like.

He lasted a full thirty seconds longer than his brother, and even jacked me off afterward and caught my spunk in his mouth. I was enamored, to say the least.

The next night, working the same shift, I was counting the till after close when my trousers suddenly came down around my ankles and someone eagerly spread my cheeks and started eating me out with a sort of amateur prodigy forcefulness. I obligingly lifted my left leg up onto the counter to kill him easier access and turned to see, to my further surprise, not Ewan but Padrick, who had evidently snuck into the shop at some point. Ewan was behind him for a moment, but quickly ended up on his knees beside him sucking my cock.

It was like something out of my wildest wet dreams.

From their we established an easy system where they were able to get out their teen frustrations on me whenever they wished, and I taught them how to fuck like men — they were both hung tops, but Ewan was surprisingly far more forceful, getting off on smacking my ass and tugging my hair and grabbing my throat, whereas Padrick liked getting ridden and edged mostly. I happily accommodated both of them, even, on two unforgettable occasions, letting them both fuck me at the same time, an exercise that drove me as close to nirvana as I’ve ever been.

That’s why I was disappointed when, arriving at work that afternoon still slightly unfulfilled by my visit to confession, I found Candyss there filling in for Ewan that day. I had to wait until I got home that night for Garshan to give me what I needed. I unfortunately arrived home just after he’d left for the gym — I opted to sneak into his room and take a nap on his bed until he got back.

Sure enough, I woke up about an hour later to his sweaty body kneeling over me on the bed, my shirt ridden up as he sucked at my nipples.

“Good evening,” he smiled devilishly as I stretched and took in the delectable scent of his musk.

“Have a good work-out?” I asked, and rolled us over so that I was straddling his hips. He was hard inside his shorts. His white tank was so wet it was almost entirely see-through now.

“Oh, I’ve still got some energy left,” he smirked, and I leaned down to capture him in a momentary kiss before, intoxicated on the smell of his sweat, I pushed his thick arms up and buried my face in the damp hair of one of his armpits, taking a deep sniff before lapping at it with my tongue. It was salty and delicious. I moaned.

“Take off your tank,” I ordered, and he did eagerly, handing it to me. As soon as I had it I rolled off him, clutching it to my face so I could smell it. I moaned again as he dropped trow and crawled on top of me. “Mmm,” I hummed, “fuck me rough while I smell you.”

“Fuck yes,” he agreed, and I arched my back as he peeled off my trousers, starting a little at my change in underwear.

“I thought you left commando?” he asked in shock.

“I did,” I murmured as I reached down and pulled him free from his jock, stroking his pole fondly, enjoying the feel of it in my fingers.

He growled and pulled the underwear down my legs, dropping them on the bed without a further glance. “Still wet?”

I nodded. “Fingered myself a little in the bathroom at work.”

“You horny devil,” he teased, sucking at my nipple again and earning a sweet moan.

“Just come on and pound me so hard the bed breaks,” I keened, wrapping my legs around him and holding his shaft at my entrance, the head teasing my hole tantalizingly as it slowly started to—

A knock resounded from the front door.

Garshan lifted his head and looked toward the door in surprise. “Who the hell could that be?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Just fuck me—“

The knocking resounded again, this time more insistent.

“I don’t know if they’re leaving,” Garshan sighed.

Another, longer string of knocks seemed to confirm his words.

“Fine,” I sighed dejectedly as he broke free and stood, tucking himself back in his jock and pulling on his trousers while I pulled on the tightie-whities and my shirt. My dick print, leaking precum into the underwear, must’ve been plainly obvious.

We strode to the door, myself cracking it open while Garshan stood behind it ready to fight if need be.

I peeked out.

It was the Light Cleric.

“You lied,” he said, grim determination on his face.


	5. Between a Cleric and a Hot Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lusty lad gets himself in deep with two recurring characters

“You lied,” the Light Cleric said, grim determination on his face.

“I did?” I asked as innocently as possible, unsure of what was about to happen but aroused nonetheless.

“When you said it was normal,” he said, leaning on closer. His face was red — he didn’t want to be overheard. “Normal for your... rear to be so... so wet...”

My mouth dropped open in surprise for a moment before I could recompose myself. “Ah, yes, um... well, it’s not really _normal_ , I guess... at least for most people. But _mine_ does tend to be, um, _wet_ more often most.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, I mean, asses aren’t just naturally wet. You need to apply some kind of lubricant to get them that way.”

“And you... _lubricate_ often?”

“You could say that.”

“So your confession about last night,” he pressed, putting together the pieces, “that wasn’t the first time you’ve...”

“No,” I shook my head, then smiled lustily and leaned on the doorframe. “Would you like to hear about the others?”

Garshan suddenly cleared his throat, reminding me he was there.

The holy father tensed up. “Is someone else here with you?”

“My roommate,” I confessed, and swung the door open wider so he could see Garshan standing there, arms crossed gruffly.

“I see,” the cleric paled. “Of course you would consort with a devil.”

“You better not call me a devil unless you want me to give you hell, father,” Garshan threatened, cracking his tail like a whip. (In answer to your unasked question, yes, he’s fucked me with it before.)

The cleric shifted and said, “Well, perhaps I’d better go.”

“So soon,” I asked, hooking my thumbs in the underwear I had on. “You haven’t even gotten your undies back yet, father.”

He let out a noise that was probably supposed to be the start of a sentence before his voice cracked.

I stepped out the door toward him. “Come on, holy father. Don’t you wanna pull these off me with your teeth, while my friend Garshan here shows you exactly how to get your ass wet?”

His unencumbered erection was pushing a large bulge in his robes now that was undeniable.

“That’s what you came for isn’t it?” I continued. “You must’ve tried what you did to me earlier on yourself and it didn’t work as well. Let us show you exactly how it’s done.”  
I reached forward and got a loose grip on his dick through those robes.

“Commando, father? You must’ve been in quite the rush.”

I turned to Garshan and smirked. We’d never done group stuff together. I tried to gauge his reaction. He seemed to still be processing this all.

“Come on, Garshan. You can let loose all your frustration on the holy father here. Really show him who’s boss...”

I had the cleric in the door now, and I slipped my arm around Garshan’s neck. “Show him why I’m coming home to you every night.”

Garshan growled, and in response I pulled the cleric forward with my other arm and took his open, dazed lips in a kiss, bringing all three of us together — three bodies smashed together, my tongue in the father’s mouth while Garshan ground against me lustfully, lapping at my ear.

“We gonna get on with this or what?” he finally asked after I’d been sucking the cleric’s tongue for too long.

“Of course,” I ceded, leaning over to nibble on his lip before closing the door and leading them both back to Garshan’s bed.

Once we were there I crawled backwards on the bed, pulling them both on after me. I slipped my hands around both their necks, drawing Garshan in for a wet kiss while spreading my legs and pulling the cleric’s head down on top of my bulge. I didn’t even have to give any instructions; already blind with lust he took my cock in his salivating mouth, suckling on it and lapping at it through the fabric of his own tightie-whities while his hands roamed my thighs, restless and excited. I sucked on Garshan’s salty tongue for a moment before breaking the kiss and murmuring his instructions. With no word or expression, he backed away and crawled off the bed while I bucked my hips into the holy father’s eager mouth, tugging at that silver hair as his long fingers strummed across my loins, my hips, my buttocks, finally landing on the waistband of the underwear — gold, with the white lettering all around: “Property of the Church of Pholtus”.

I pulled his head up, earning a befuddled expression. “Ah-ah-ah,” I cajoled with a smirk. “Use your teeth, remember.”

He nodded, and was ducking to do so when he suddenly let out a sharp moan, his entire body shifting and twitching as Garshan, having lifted his robe already, spread his cheeks and dived in full force with his dexterous hot tongue, no doubt lighting up the poor old priest’s senses like they’d never been lit up before. When he finally looked up at me again, panting, I smiled, “That’s one way of getting the job done.”

He nodded, an involuntary smile playing on the edge of his lips as he let out another moan, and then, trying to keep focus, he bent down again and pulled at the waistband with his teeth, drawing them down to my ankles with some difficulty as he began ever-so-slowly rolling his hips back into Garshan’s talented mouth.

“Here’s another way,” I offered, drawing one of his arms up and holding the hand up to my mouth so I could suck his index finger between my lips and get it nice and wet. He moaned again, keeping his eyes fixed on me as I diligently sucked on his finger and then let it go with a slick pop! and pushed it down toward him again. He took it from there, experimentally rubbing it around my already-loosened entrance before slowly pushing it in all the way to the knuckle, watching as I let out a little moan and bit my bottom lip in approval.

“Now curve the end of your finger a little— _oh!_ ” I gasped quietly as he did so— “and pull it halfway out slow...” He did so, grazing my prostate just a little and making my hips buck. “Aw yeah, that’s good. Keep doing that, over and over, _mmm_ , spit on it a little and add your middle finger now—“ I let out a broken moan as both of those long, knobby fingers started caressing my g-spot, driving me buck wild. Without my having to instruct, he dove in hungrily for my bobbing, dripping penis, stroking it with his free hand while he sucked on the head experimentally, still pumping his fingers in and out of me and even adding a third. He kept humming and twitching as Garshan drove his warm, wet organ deeper into him, and then suddenly his head shot up with a pop and his hands clenched.

“Pholtus Almighty,” he cried, before moaning brokenly and pushing back even harder onto Garshan. He looked up at me with a shocked expression. “Is that what my fingers are brushing against inside you?”

I bit my bottom lip, nodding quickly, “Yeah.”

He sighed deeply, laying his head down on my hip and swaying his pelvis back. “That’s better than I ever dreamed— _ohhh_...”

I took advantage of his moment of distraction to sit up and pull off my shirt, and then pull his robe over his head to discard it. He kissed me steamily, moaning into my mouth while he started fingerfucking me again. Glancing over I saw that Garshan was also fully naked now. This was good.

Suddenly the Tiefling drew back with a lip-smacking smirk and spanked the holy father’s ass, hard, earning a pleasured squeal from him that broke our kiss.

I shifted gears quickly. “You like that?” I asked him.

The silver-haired cleric nodded enthusiastically, swinging his ass out as he painted, “Please...”

I made eye contact with Garshan, who smiled in earnest now and let loose another, harder smack, one that would surely leave a bruise. The father groaned in a high pitch, his head falling on my lap again as he kept nodding. Upping the ante, Garshan slapped his ass again, this time landing in between the cheeks, grazing his hole.

Still fingering me, the cleric shuddered and sighed, “I wanna... _ha_... I wanna feel exactly what you’re feeling...”

I made eye contact with Garshan and replied, “That can definitely be arranged.”

The red devil leaned down and spat a huge wad of saliva on the cleric’s hole, before spanking him there again, landing his fingers just over the hole and gruffly shoving one in halfway. The cleric yelped with a full-body shake before loudly moaning as Garshan pushed the rest of his finger in and then caressed his prostate. Then, with his extra hand, Garshan spanked his right cheek again, as the broken cleric moaned — his face hot and red — and started suckling softly on my cock again.

“That feel good, father?” I asked, running my hands through his hair.

He nodded, humming on my cock as another finger entered him. I had to hand it to him — he might have been an amateur at cocksucking, but his tongue was a prodigy. I was feeling high on the sensation of his warm, wet mouth moving on my dick while he pumped his fingers in and out of my ass.

When Garshan added a third finger, he broke off my cock with a whine and sighed, “ _Please... please..._ I need...”

Cruelly I teased, “What? What do you need?”

“Inside me...” he pleaded brokenly. “I need someone inside me...”

“Garshan’s inside you, isn’t he?” I asked playfully.

“I need more...” he panted.

“You need to be fucked,” I said, and his nodded, a blissful smile tugging at his lips. “Say it, father,” I coaxed, playing with his hair. “Ask Garshan to fuck you.”

The holy father nodded and turned his head toward Garshan, and asked, “Will you... Garshan, will you fuck me?”

“‘ _Garshan, please fuck my virgin asshole_ ’,” the tiefling provided with a devilish grin, landing another smack on the cleric’s bum.

“Garshan,” the cleric sighed, no longer sounding reluctant about it at all, “Please fuck my virgin asshole.”

“Holy father,” I moaned, and he turned back to me, a rebellious grin breaking through.

“Holy father needs to be fucked,” he said quietly, but with enough conviction that I almost came right there.

“You heard the man,” I said eagerly to Garshan, who withdrew his fingers with a slick pop from the cleric and spit on his hand to stroke his cock enthusiastically.

“This daddy’s tight as a vice,” he chuckled. “This’ll be funner than I thought.”

“You’re telling me,” I growled, before, without warning, pushing the cleric over onto his back and leaping up to straddle his chest.

“Now, daddy,” I quipped, “time to show me what you’ve learned from Garshan.”

He smiled eagerly in understanding and then stuck out his tongue as I backed up over his face, sitting down on his mouth as his hands flew up to spread my cheeks while he started lapping at my hole.

I made eye contact with Garshan and watched as he lined himself up with the cleric’s ass and then slowly pushed in, earning a muffled moan that hummed up through my body and poured out of my mouth into Garshan’s as we captured each other in a sloppy kiss. As Garshan snapped his hips back and forth, eliciting more elated hot sighs and sounds from the holy father, I careened downward first to nibble and suck on Garshan’s gold nipple piercing, and then to lap at the father’s familiar cockhead while his tongue worked its way into my ass...


	6. Bathtime with Tiefling, the Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remainder of the night and morning with our hearty hero and his two bedfellows

Paradise was two cocks — Garshan’s full, curved one and the Light Cleric’s long, bulbous-headed one — slipping and sliding in and out of my slick, sensitive hole after three hours of intense lovemaking.

The virgin father had cum in my mouth about two minutes after Garshan started fucking him, but that pressure on his prostate was so good that he kept begging for more until Garshan had cum inside him and he was hard again. So I rode him out while Garshan ate him out, and by the time we both came, the red devil was hard as a rock again, so the father and I made out on his cock until all three of us were hard again. Garshan fucked him again while he fucked me, and when that wasn’t enough, I arranged them so that they were scissoring each other and then started bouncing on both their hard phalluses at once.

No one lasted long this time. First the holy father came, spurting hot spunk inside me that drove me over the edge and made me shoot my load on his stomach. My contracting hole was what brought Garshan over the edge. Full and exhausted, I dropped on top of the holy father, and Garshan crawled on top of me — a hot, steamy, sweaty, sticky sandwich as we all rubbed and licked at one another, kissing in unison and in turns and caressing one another lazily in blissful afterglow and spent fatigue.

I drifted in and out of sweet sleep, momentarily sated, and woke the next morning to sunlight pouring in over my skin drenched in sweat and cum, still on my belly on top of the cleric (whose long cock was now hard again and rubbing against mine) while Garshan knelt behind me giving me the wake-up call of my life — a hot tongue filling up my slick hole and massaging my prostate.

I groaned, rousing the cleric from his own slumber. He seemed to assess the situation hazily at first before groaning himself. I felt him spreading his legs underneath me and immediately became aware of Garshan’s fingers under me — he was fingering our holy father awake at the same time he was rimming me.

I captured the cleric’s mouth in a kiss, feeling our skin stick together as I shifted on him. When I broke the kiss I turned my head back to Garshan and sighed, “Perhaps we should continue this in the bath?”

He pulled up and grinned, giving my ass a smack before drawing out of the cleric as well and standing to his feet, his hard curvy cock bouncing in the air tantalizingly as he did so.

I pried myself from the good cleric with no small amount of effort, and pulled Garshan into a messy kiss that tasted like cum, sweat, and morning breath, while the grey father stretched his weary bones and finished rousing from sleep.

“Are you coming, father?” I asked, tugging Garshan’s cock while he kneaded my ass with a hungry growl.

The light cleric took one look at our irresistible position and sprung to life. “Certainly,” he replied as he hurried off the bed, following us down the hall to the bathroom.

Garshan was the one to get on his knees and start the tap once we got there, eager no doubt to get clean so we could immediately get dirty again. Garshan has a nice ass — not a bubble butt like mine, but firm and muscular from all his time in the gym. I admired it for a moment before I got a wicked idea and whispered it to our companion, which was how Garshan was no doubt shocked to suddenly have me between his thighs sucking on his erection while the holy father licked him open with his newfound prodigy skill. The devil rumbled with surprise and then delight, rolling his hips back and forth between us, fucking my mouth while fucking himself on the Light Cleric’s tongue. Garshan rarely gets his ass played with — I’m no top unless I absolutely must be (my overly sensitive, perfectly round ass is a gift from the gods that I will not squander) but I can’t help but wonder sometimes if Garshan has more needs than I might be giving him, and, well, he’s got such a good ass on him it probably shouldn’t go to waste.

Sure enough, I watched from my place as Garshan extended his hand back and roughly grasped the cleric by his iron head of hair, shoving him deeper between his cheeks and even spreading his legs more to try and better accommodate him.

I expertly spat out Garshan’s cock and stroked it instead while I said, “You know our new friend has such a long cock, Garshan. Do you want that inside you?”

He turned his head from looking at the cleric to look at me and grinned, nodding as a groan poured from him.

I pushed up on my hindquarters to make eye contact with the cleric and wink at him. He enthusiastically drew back and spat on Garshan’s ass before lining up his cockhead with it, moaning as he teased Garshan’s hole, which made Garshan moan as well.

I suddenly became aware of the bath filling behind us and murmured, “Not so fast, gents. Let’s get in the bath first.”

They both looked disappointed, but obediently shuffled forward with me into the bath. Once inside the warm water we all just devolved into a tangle of limbs and wet kisses. I broke free long enough to grab the soap and lather up Garshan’s shoulders as he made out with the cleric, grinding against him. I’d made it down to the small of his back when I realized they were both fingering each other, moaning crudely into each other’s mouths as they massaged each other’s prostates. I slid up behind Garshan and leaned my head over his shoulder, murmuring, “The holy father has such long fingers, doesn’t he?”

Garshan broke the kiss and nodded, biting back a growl, and then suddenly they were both orgasming at once, little spirits of white cum floating to the surface of the hot water between them as they spasmed and sighed on one another’s lips.

I was honestly shocked. “Should I leave you two alone, then?” I teased.

“You’re one to act jealous,” Garshan growled, turning to me with a smirk as he collapsed next to the holy father, who was breathing heavily as the sun shone in on his face through the high window. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, eye open madly. “What time is it?” he asked in a panic.

I checked the clock on the wall in the hallway. “Half past 8,” I replied.

“I’m going to be late for morning prayer,” he cried out and leapt from the bath.

“You haven’t even cleaned off yet,” I reminded him with a chuckle.

“No time!” he called, bounding naked and wet down the hall to get his clothes.

“Will you be coming back?” Garshan called, but the cleric didn’t answer as he bolted out the front door, damp and disarrayed.

“Oh, he’ll be back,” I sighed with a smirk, snuggling up close to Garshan as I cleaned off my shoulders. “Now, are you going to finger me too or what?”

 


	7. Lunch with the Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero, he of the sensitive prostate, gets a delicious lunch break with the two half-dwarf twins, and also gets an unexpected visit...

I rode Garshan’s fingers for nearly half an hour before giving up. I was hard and eager, but I just couldn’t get to orgasm. I could tell Garshan just wasn’t as into it as usual either.

“What’s the matter?” I chuckled as I finally pulled off of him. He wasn’t even hard again. “You tired or something?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged, a bit hazily.

I didn’t buy it, but decided not to press. We didn’t really hide anything from each other — he’d likely explain whatever it was in due time. As for me, I dried off, got dressed, and headed to work, still frustrated from that lack of prostate orgasm that I’d been hoping for. The sky had gone dreary and dim with clouds — matching my dull mood as I made my way around to the front of the store.

Lucky for me, Padrick was there stocking that morning. The moment I saw him in the backroom lifting up a sack of flour of the bottom shelf, I cozied up next to him, grinding my erection into his belly and growling into his close-cropped soft chestnut-brown hair. “What do you say I man the fort and you let your brother know to meet us for an early lunch break?”

A quick squeeze on his crotch got him rock hard immediately and he rumbled, “Fuck yeah, baby,” before shifting up on his tiptoes to kiss me. He tasted like bacon and coffee, and it got me hungry.

“How about an appetizer while we still don’t have any customers?” I suggested once we broke the kiss, and as he nodded fervently I dropped to my knees and whipped out his huge member, stroking it lustfully like I did the first time I initiated him two years ago. I wrapped my lips around that juicy schlong and started pumping it in and out of my mouth greedily, when suddenly a ding sounded from the front of the store — someone walking in.

I let his cock fall from my mouth with a moist pop and a “Dammit” and adjusted myself in my trousers. “Wait right here,” I snarled, and headed out to the front counter.

I was actually shocked to see who it was. The figure was tall — a full foot higher than me — an elf with pale golden skin and long jet black hair braided in plaits down his back. He was dressed wealthily, his thick taut build filling out his noble clothes quite nicely, and had sharp, dark eyes and an even sharper smile.

“Good morning, milord,” I chirped, getting over my shock. It was incredibly rare to see Lord Felric out of his mansion, especially in a little shop like this examining our bath supplies. At the sound of my voice, though, he turned toward me in full, looking me up and down with a hungry gleam in his eye. My dick twitched as he smiled, his perfectly white teeth and smooth, succulent lips beckoning me like a sign that said, “ _Come here if you wanna get hurt so good you won’t walk for a week_.”

“What brings you to our humble shop?” I asked, more quietly than intended, as he strode forward to the counter.

His answer shocked me. “You, in fact,” he growled.

“Me?” I scoffed, confused as to why he’d be here. I’d never seen him so closely before, but he really was a sight to behold. He smelled like sex incarnate, and looked like it too, dressed up in perfect black silk trimmed with pure gold, his muscles practically bursting out of that thin fitted material.

“I’ve heard you have quite an appetite,” he said, looking down at me with a sort of carnal fascination in those black eyes. I couldn’t tell if his pupils were aroused or if he simply had such dark irises it was hard to tell.

“You could say that,” I smiled, leaning forward on the counter. It had the effect of getting me closer while also making me look smaller — more submissive, more vulnerable, and most importantly closer to his cock.

“People say an awful lot about you,” he said. I was studying those hard-to-discern eyes so intently that I didn’t notice his hand moving until his fingers were lightly twisting around the curls on the side of my head, sending a shiver down my spine straight to my ass.

“I’m inclined to confirm most of what they say,” I responded, licking my lips as I leaned ever so slightly into his hand.

“I’d like to investigate those claims thoroughly,” he intoned. I realized he’d leaned down closer to me, his face now inches from mine as he moved his hand to tilt my chin up. “I’m hosting a small dinner tonight at my mansion. I think there will be quite enough there to satisfy even your appetite, if the stories are true...”

“And what if you’ve underestimated my appetite?” I purred back, tempted to just lean in and take his plump-looking lips with mine, feel that dark stubble burn against my smooth cheeks...

“If that’s the case,” he said, his dark smile growing, “then I’ll happily do whatever it takes to sate your ravenous hunger...” He slid his index finger across my jaw, lingering at my throat before pulling away entirely, leaving me wanting. “Tonight at dusk. Don’t be late.”

With that, he winked at me, grinning like a real apex predator as he turned and stalked on out the door. I ground my crotch against the counter frustratedly as the door immediately opened and two ladies came in to shop.

I smiled at them kindly and then took my leave to head back to the stockroom, the scowl on my face likely obvious as I walked in on Padrick stroking his dick expectantly.  
“Too many customers,” I sighed. “I’ll have to save that for later.”

He grumbled and reluctantly tucked himself back into his trousers, hoisting the sack of flour back on his shoulders and walking out of the room, squeezing my ass on the way out. “Fine...”

It was an unfortunately busy morning — I remained trapped at the till while Padrick scurried around helping customers find merchandise and helping them tow it home. He was in and out repeatedly, bustling to and fro, which meant at the very least I got quite a few glimpses of his taut ass and sizable bulge bouncing around as he dashed. By the time traffic slowed close to noon, I felt dead tired. The very last customer we had — an old lady who was a regular — bought several large items, and with Padrick still out on his latest run I had to walk it all to her doorstep myself, being sure to lock the door first. I was back in just a few minutes, and was momentarily surprised to find the door unlocked before I realized Padrick must’ve come back and done so. I stepped in and locked the door, sticking the lunch break sign in the window before proceeding to the backroom.

I immediately caught sight of Padrick seated on top of a barrell, his trousers down and his cock in his hand. He eyed me hungrily, smirking. “Hope you’re still hungry for lunch.”

“I’m famished,” I snarled, and dove in onto my knees, sucking on his hard dick like my life depended on it. He squirmed as usual, tangling his hands in my hair and shirt collar as his thighs and hips twitched and he let out a little whine.

“So am I,” a familiar voice suddenly said from behind me, and then my trousers were at my knees and Ewan was biting my ass cheeks, his fingers moving to knead insistently at my hole — Padrick must’ve gone to get him on his last errand. What a smart boy.

I groaned around Padrick’s cock as Ewan’s tongue slid past my tight ring of muscle, earning another whine from the boy as his muscular thighs came up beside my head and his legs intertwined around my neck, his pelvis hesitantly bucking his cock deeper down my throat with the childish skiddishness I’d come to expect from him.

Ewan, meanwhile, was assertive as ever, roughly manhandling my ass with his hands as his tongue dove deeper and deeper. After a minute he pulled back and spat a wad of warm saliva on my winking, wet hole, then started probing me with his finger while his tongue alternated between my rim, my balls, and my cockhead, never quite settling for one and driving me up the wall.

While my right hand was stroking him, my left was kneading at Padrick’s balls and taint as I swallowed the boy down, his tentative moans building until he whined, “I’m gonna cum!”

At the sound of that I took him down to the root, spawning my throat around his fat, delicious shaft and prompting him to explode with a hot stream of cum down my throat, which I swallowed greedily as I pushed my ass back into Ewan’s face and hands — he was stretching my hole with two fingers and fucking in between them with his tongue, while his other hand gripping my cheek with enough force to leave marks.

As soon as he was done climaxing, Padrick let down his legs and leaned forward to kiss me, hot and heavy and sloppy with saliva and spunk. I groaned into his mouth as his brother spit on my hole again and then, without warning, plowed his cock in to the base, almost making me break the kiss as my whole body spasmed and I loudly keened. He was fucking in and out of me with rapid-fire precision, his hot rod firing up my prostate with every cruel thrust while his fingers dug bruises into my hips. “Gods, you’ve got such a tight ass,” he groaned. “Such a hot slut.” With that he grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back to lick into my mouth. I groaned around his tongue while Padrick turned his attention to my nipples, stroking both our cocks. He was already getting hard again.

Ewan began pounding me erratically. “I’m gonna burst,” he warned.

“Do it,” I ordered, and he grabbed my hips and thrust it one final time, yelling as he unloaded hot cum into my full passage. I swiveled my hips to tease the very last drops out of him and then crawled forward, letting his cock slip out of me as I turned and sat on Padrick’s lap with his chest against my back. He laid back on the floor with a grin, pinching at his nipples and spreading his legs giddily as I lowered myself into his erection, keening as his thick length filled me up. We both moaned, “Fuck,” at the same instant, and then I started to ride him while his brother moved forward to kiss me. I bounced myself up and down on his cock, relishing the slick burn in my ass and the repeated grazing of my prostate as he moaned curses and snapped his hips up ecstatically, at the same time his brother licked into my mouth and stroked my dripping dick.

Not to be outdone, Padrick sat up and pulled me away to capture my mouth, moaning into it as my tight, warm hole worked his eager tool while our tongues wrestled. I could always tell the two brothers didn’t exactly _love_ sharing me; I expect the sibling rivalry between them, inflated by their identical twin status, must’ve made them quite jealous of whatever the other got from me. It was part of what made these encounters so exhilarating — they were both vying for dominance here on the battlefield of my body, and I loved nothing more than a couple of big cocks dominating me.

So I was enraptured when Ewan, now hard again, wrenched my face away from his brother’s and ordered with a smirk, “Turn around.”

Happy to oblige, I pulled nearly all the way off of Padrick’s dick and turned to face him, pushing him down onto the floor as I sank down onto his member again and took his mouth for another kiss, arching my back so that Ewan had easy access to my stretched hole. Sure enough, Ewan spat on me and worked in two fingers alongside his brother’s girth, teasing and stretching my opening while he stroked his own wet dick. Finally, he pushed in with one shove, his dick aligning with his brother’s and causing us both to groan loudly. I was so deliciously full — warm and ecstatic and stimulated — and that stimulation grew as Ewan began to pound away at my hole, his forceful, domineering thrusts rivaling the idle bucks his brother made.

I was so full — and yet, not quite enough. I needed _more_. I needed something _deeper_.

“Deeper,” I groaned desperately. “Fuck me deeper, Ewe.”

The boy took my challenge in stride, trying to bury himself to the root with each thrust, and it was almost enough — _so close, so close, so close_ —

I started swinging my hips back and forth, getting both of their cocks moving inside me, energetically fucking myself on them, desperate for release as my sensitive prostate brought me closer and closer and _closer_ —

“Fuck!” Padrick yelled, and thrust in earnest as hot cum erupted inside me. For a glorious moment they were both inside me, all the way, maxxing out my prostate for all it could take, and I groaned loudly and spilled, squirting white cords of cum across Padrick’s stomach, chest, and even his lips. I bent to lick it from them, and his mouth opened to suck it from my tongue when suddenly Ewan, still pounding away, wrenched my head up to drive himself in all the way one more time, and then he too was cumming inside my warm pink hole, yelling out curse words as he did so. Then he was on top of me in a heap, catching his breath as he pinned me to his brother’s sticky heaving chest. Padrick kissed my collarbone lethargically while Ewan sucked a hickey into my shoulder. I wiggled my ass a little, giddy at being so full, and yet — still — unsatisfied.

This was it, I realized. I wasn’t just looking for sex, for a good cock. I needed the best cock. I needed the biggest cock out there — the one that would really split me in two and make me feel it with my whole being. _That_ was why I was still so frustrated, so horny, so needy...

Nevertheless, for now I could get by with a little help from my friends. I needed more, but until I found it I could settle for these two twin peaks, and Garshan’s curved fiery rod, and the holy father’s own long staff.

Perhaps my new friend the Lord of Crowcliff could help me out tonight...


End file.
